This is a story for a challenge called "True Colors" Challenge which is on HPFC and belongs to alohamora080. I get a color and a character and I make a story. My color is grey, which means sorrow, security, or maturity. I hope I did ok!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Draco.
~o()o~
His eyes are grey.
Grey, like clouds on a stormy night. Grey, like his grandfather's tombstone. Grey.
They aren't startlingly beautiful, like Pansy always exclaims in her stupid, simper voice. They aren't platinum, like the rings his father wore on his fingers, before he left for Azkaban. They aren't "orbs of pure silver", like his mother tells everyone who will listen. They are grey. And Draco likes it that way.
He is not an emotion boy. He sneers, he taunts, he rolls his eyes at everything. He cackles at the other's misfortune. He is not emotional. Not at all.
So when his sixth year comes along, he is not prepared. At first, he is proud. He strolls into the castle wearing his favorite little smirk. The Lord chose him. And, he will succeed in the mission, and his father will be freed, and the Malfoys will know eternal glory ...
Draco fails. Then, he fails again. And again.
He wishes that the damn cabinet would just work.
He stops eating. He stops sleeping. He stops working. He just sits in the Room of Hidden Things and tries again and again and again. His eyes grow darker, the grey becomes greyer. Sorrow begins to weigh him down. Lines and creases appear on his face. He looks older, paler, more mature.
He doesn't feel like Draco Malfoy anymore.